


Can I Tell You a Secret?

by bessmertny



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, prompt asked by lovely ppl on tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:24:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8056201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bessmertny/pseuds/bessmertny
Summary: It’s another night at Rita’s.Another night of watching and waiting and wishing for something that will never be, and Mor knows it.





	Can I Tell You a Secret?

It’s another night at Rita’s.

Another night of watching and waiting and wishing for something that will never be, and Mor knows it. She wants to be mad at something, to rage, to be mad at _him_.

 

Azriel is talking with Rhys and Feyre, his voice quiet, it always is, barely audible, barely there, but it’s all that Mor can hear.

 

There are times, moments, when she wants to take his face in her hands, shake him, scream at him, willing to do anything to get a proper reaction out of him.

 

But she never does.

 

She wonders if the fear of being rejected by Azriel made a coward out of her.

 

Mor looks at the liquid in her glass, how it reflects the light.

 

She is no coward.

 

Her mind, and heart, go often back to those first tentative days in the Illyrian camp, when every little moment between them tasted of possibility, and now…

 

The liquid burns as it goes down her throat, settles in her lungs like a lazy fire.

An heartbeat later, her glass is full again.

 

If she gets closer, if she touches him, what would he do? Become one with his shadows? Would he be stunned, take a step back from her? Would he… touch her back?

 

She often wonders what his touch would be like.

Would he be soft and gentle or rough and demanding? Would his fingers graze her skin lightly, like the ghost of a touch raising goose bumps in it’s wake or would he-

 

She drinks the content of her glass so quickly she barely feels the burn, and she prays it will be enough to stop her mind from thinking of him, to stop the relentless chanting of the possibilities that never were.

 

He is watching her, he always is; his hazel eye are like two shards of ice between her shoulder blades.

Mor already knows the look on his face, it’s painted with longing on the inside her eyelids: his brows are furrowed, his mouth a tight line curved down, his eyes hooded, the shadows dancing around him like they always do.

 

 She feels like a child because that little bit of attention makes her want to drink more, drink until she’s so drunk she can barely stand on her own two feet.

Mor wonder if he would be the one to bring her home, to put her in his arms, cradle her head against his chest.

She can’t help but wonder if that would be all the contact with him she’s ever going to get.

 

She can hear the thoughts in his mind like they were in hers, _should he stop her? go to her? do something before-_

But he doesn’t. He never does.

 

And now-now it’s all plain and clear in this little game of theirs, because a piece is missing. Or better, a piece has found his mate and is now too busy being locked in a cabin with her to see this pitiful display, to put a stop to it.

 

But she can’t blame Cassian, or his happiness, or Nesta. She snorts thinking that the latter two to Cassian are the same damn thing and in the sea of envy and joy she feels, she’s big enough to know that she can’t hate them for her own unhappiness.

 

She knows who really is to blame.

 

Mor watches her glass being refilled once, twice, thrice and a recurring dream-nightmare, horrible premonition, vision of a future where she at least has the guts to _try_ -uncoils inside of her mind and it’s always the same and it always breaks her heart: she kisses him, lips on lips and the joy she feels is more than she ever felt, her heart trying to dig is way out through her ribs and he- he smiles, soft and polite, it doesn’t reach his eyes, it screams _no, not like that, I’ve never seen you like that_ and _you’re like family to me_ and _it’s been five hundred years, your love will end, mine did_ and he slowly pushes her away, the edges in that cold smile cutting her hope apart.

 

She empties her glass, again.

 

“I think you had enough.” It’s him, his voice, drilling in every bone in her body, echoing in the space of centuries of longing.

“Taking the role of nursemaid now, have you?” _the role you’ve left to Cassian all this time_ , she wants to say, but she had let him do it, let his brother fill the space they were too scared to even think of, let Cassian’s gentle heart take the blow for them both, but no longer.

 

She turns to him just in time to see him breathe in and close his eyes, like being this close to her or talking to her for more than two sentences makes him want to crawl out of his skin.

 

“Let’s go, Mor” and maybe it’s the way he says her name, the way it curls around her heart and makes it hard to breath but she gets closer to him, touches his face and his eyes widen, shock and-and something else and she masters her most joyful, childish tone and whispers “ _Can I tell you a secret?_ ”

He isn’t moving away, _he isn’t moving away_ , he looks like he couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

She straightens herself, climbs on her sit until she’s face to face with him and she sees his hands opening and closing, opening and closing in the form of a fist until they make their shaky way to her hips and her voice is agonized, like she’s in pain and on the verge of tears, he opens his eyes for her, looks at her and she can’t keep it in no longer.

 

 “I love you.”

 

Azriel screws his eyes shut, but she goes on, she said it, it’s out in the open, he heard her, he didn’t run- “I’ve loved you for five hundred years, I’ve always did. I always will.”

 

There’s a sound coming from his chest, like a sob, like an answer as he kisses her forehead and his grip on her hips tightens, pulls her closer.

 

She thinks she can hear his shadows whispering,

 

_Finally, finally._

 

 


End file.
